Escape
by Han-22x
Summary: Bella Black needs to escape from her suffocating life. Oneshot, completely random. Please R&R :D


All her life had been so dull, so completely boring. The endless balls, the suitors, the high expectations. Promises of marriages to _him_, and then to _him_, but not to _him_ – because he was a _blood traitor_ who made friends with _Mudbloods_. They all seemed the same to Bella Black. All serious young men, with lots of money, and a decent amount of Pureblood. And she would have to marry one of them. God, she hated her life sometimes.

The dresses, and the ball gowns, the manners which had to be maintained all the time. Sometimes, it was all too much for Bella Black.

She longed to live, to see something different in her life, to have adventure. She dreamed of escape as a child, while her sisters plaited their hair with ribbons and played with dolls. She wished she could go somewhere away from all the suffocating expectations people made concerning her. She doubted her parents loved her; and she didn't actually care if they did or not. But she was sick of the pretence, of the façade which covered everything in her life. She didn't care at all. She didn't need anyone, - but at the same time she needed someone to serve.

Hogwarts was a breath of fresh air for her. She could be who she wanted there, she didn't have to remember to sit in a certain way, or where impractical dresses all the time, and she could just send scathing comments to any admirers – who scurried away immediately. She built herself a reputation, and it wasn't a nice one. She was feared – by the girls in her dormitory, by her fellow family members, by her sisters, by her House – by the whole school. Bellatrix Black, not one to be messed with unless you wanted to be cursed to oblivion and back.

But then school finished, all too quickly, and she found herself pushed back into the world she hated. The stifling world of the Noble House of Black. She loved it, the superiority to everyone else, but at the same time she loathed it. She hated it. Cissy and Dromeda – they were more suited to that sort of life. Cissy loved it, the social events, her high position, and the dozens of gowns she squeezed into her closet. Bella suspected Dromeda didn't like it all quite as much, but Dromeda was relatively placid – she let it all go over her head. Bella didn't. She wasn't calm and placid – she had a fiery personality, and a violent temper.

She smashed her mother's prized plate collection, because she was _so fed up _of the endless remarks about her posture. She cursed her father because she couldn't bear any more comments on her lack of engagement ring. She was being crushed by everything. She needed escape. Her parents obviously agreed, because before she knew it – she was walking down the aisle – being married to Rodolphus Lestrange. A serious young man, with lots of money and a decent amount of pureblood.

She knew it was just an attempt to make her halfway respectable. She knew it was just a ploy to get rid of her by her parents. She resented it, and was all set to resent her new husband.

Curiously, he was hard to resent. He spoiled her, and gave in to her – he didn't interfere in her life, and she didn't interfere in his. Until he received that tattoo. And she knew as soon as she saw it. She knew that he had joined him.

She had wanted to join _him_ since she was in Hogwarts. There had been rumours about him, the Dark Lord – he was recruiting, followers who were loyal to him could join him, and fight for wizards, for the maintaining of pureblood. It appealed to Bella not only because of the ideology, but because it offered escape. She needed escape.

She begged Rodolphus, the only time in her life she allowed herself to beg – "Take me to see him, take me to see the Dark Lord" – and finally, because he gave into her all the time, he relented. If he hadn't of relented, it would have ended in a fight – and there was no doubt as to who would have won.

As she took the Dark Mark – pride and happiness overshadowing any pain felt while the tattoo was being burnt onto her skin - she had never felt so alive. She held her wrist out proudly, her face set into an arrogant mask. She was escaping from her stifling life – from the torments and the suffocation. She was a Death Eater – free to cause death, destruction and pain, free to do whatever she wanted – without the stares, and the remarks and the endless insulting comments. Free, free to be Bella – at last.


End file.
